Page 11 of Until the Heart Stops (The Oylen City #1)

I t had been three nights since Callum and I walked the riverside market and in that time no one from his coven had come.

Even more frustrating, no letters had mysteriously appeared from the patron to whom I wished my mind had not wandered so often.

He and Callum battled for dominance in my thoughts until they became a strange amalgamation of the two.

Callum with blood tears standing in his eyes, hands outstretched laden with the gifts I had received, the scent of spice and apples swirling around us.

But the night we’d spent in the market had given me nothing of his scent.

The ones that had swirled around us had been too thick to pick out anything other than what I always associated with our city of Oylen. I had no basis to hope it was Callum.

Of course, it was safer without the proximity of Mael Auguste’s fledglings, though strangely, I’d believed Henry when he’d said I was in no danger from them. And, of course, there had been the fire in Callum’s eyes when he’d spoken of escaping his maker’s control.

But I should have known no amount of social awkwardness could have kept Henry away. No sooner had I accepted that no one would arrive then he appeared with a wide smile and bouncing curls.

“Mademoiselle Searah, my goddess, my light, my muse,” he cried when he was still a hundred paces from my stall, arms outstretched.

A hulking vampire followed close behind, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

His thick black hair was braided close to his skull, the ends tipped in silver and gathered back from his handsome face, growing more beautiful when he gave me a conspiratorial smile.

I’d seen this male before plenty of times, though my mother had never introduced him.

“I am surprised you have not banned him from your place of business yet, Mademoiselle,” he called, flipping back the edge of his roquelaure and exposing the fine green silk beneath.

“I would be hard pressed to cast wards strong enough, I’m afraid,” I answered with a similar smile.

My breath caught. Following a few steps behind was Callum, his face set and eyes hard. Adrenaline thrummed through my veins and I tried to fight the heat creeping up my cheeks.

But Henry nodded sagely, close enough to reach out and grab one of my hands between his, blessedly taking my attention.

“I am very stubborn and desperate for attention.” His lips brushed across my knuckles before he straightened and withdrew a small scroll from his breast pocket. “For you, my extravagant songbird.”

Fighting back a smile and hoping they didn’t hear the way my heart skipped a beat, I tugged my silver knife from the inside of my corset to break the seal .

My darling Mademoiselle Searah,

I quite like the idea of you growing used to having gifts lavished upon you.

To your friend’s comment about “small acts of kindness”—I must admit, it is the first time anyone has described anything about me as small.

Perhaps better would be “large acts of kindness.” I would also accept “massive” or even “mind-altering.”

Yet regardless of the size of my kindness, it is truly that.

I wish nothing but your happiness and contentment, Mademoiselle, as much as I hope that one day I might find myself worthy of basking within your light.

It has been almost a millennium since I last saw the sun, but one moment of seeing your face and I find I do not miss its shine any more.

Tell me what you need, my darling. How else can I lessen your burden and help that light shine?

Sincerely,

Your ever faithful servant

A small chuckle slipped through my lips as I read, and I pressed my knuckles to my mouth to stifle it.

And yet as I read, an ache spread across my heart I did not expect.

Perhaps it was his humor or the heartfelt way in which he spoke, but I thought I could feel his longing suffused into the pages.

Longing and something else, like a true desire for good.

That ache only made me more confused and desperate for the charade to end. Surely he would reveal himself? I could not imagine a circumstance in which such a kind and generous male would not be worthy of my time.

Henry was watching me as I looked up, a soft smile on his face. He touched his knuckle beneath my chin. “An answer, perhaps, for our mutual friend?”

Rolling my lips together, I nodded and pulled a piece of parchment from the inside of my ledger. It did not take me long at all to craft a reply.

Sir,

Your letter has left me in both high spirits and heartache.

I beg of you, tell me who you are and why we communicate in this strange manner. You have asked me what I need, and it is this: I must know of whom I spend my time thinking, whose feet I lay my gratitude before.

And most importantly of all, am I in danger from you?

Because even with these handful of correspondences I fear I am.

I fear, as you put it, the flame of hope has sparked inside my chest from each of your letters and these last few nights without a word I have been strangely bereft. What can I do to show my gratitude?

Yours,

Mlle Lilith Searah

I blew on the ink so it could dry before rolling it into a scroll and sealing it with my blood. Henry’s eyes sparkled as I passed it to him, eyeing the blood seal on the parchment. “You will drive him mad.”

“He needs a little madness.” The large vampire behind him chuckled.

Henry stepped to the side, gesturing to the male. “Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce you to my eldest brother, Mateo Auguste.”

I slid from my stool so I could properly greet him, pressing three fingers to my lips. “It’s a pleasure, Lord Auguste.”

Mateo, too, gave a theatrical shiver as Henry had, guiding me to my feet before bowing over my hand to brush his lips across the back of my palm. “Lord Auguste is our maker, Mademoiselle, Mateo suits me just fine.”

I paused for a moment, my attention slipping back to Callum for a beat before settling once more on his brother.

“Lilith suits me as well, Mateo,” I answered carefully. “And that goes for you as well, Henry.”

I did not need to see the blond vampire to feel the tension that rolled off him in waves or hear the groan of his silver walking stick as he clenched his fist when Mateo repeated my name as if we were old friends.

The dark brown of Mateo’s cheeks appeared to glow while he guided me back to my stool. There was a sadness, however, lingering in the corners of his eyes—as if he tried very hard to push away a crushing grief. “I see now where the fascination began.”

A pair of vampires nearby stopped to gape at my company, their eyes sliding between the three immortals. Unease prickled beneath my skin at their attention, but before I could comment on it, the two males approached with subservient bows.

“Lords Auguste,” the first male greeted. “It is an honor to see all of you here.”

Henry and Mateo turned to reply to the males, but Callum’s attention remained fixed on me.

I could not understand his expression, as if an unreachable emotion was buried beneath layers of ice.

Unbidden came the memory of his hand on my throat, the brush of his thumb across my jaw.

The mere remembrance of his touch burned like a fire in my belly until I pressed my thighs together to abate the ache.

“If it is a reputable den you are looking for, my lords, we would be happy?—”

“You are looking at the most reputable blood den in the city,” Callum snapped, his eyes on mine even as his words cut through the unfamiliar male. “To patronize anywhere else is to admit you lack the taste befitting your station.”

The male who had spoken stiffened. Even his honey-blond hair appeared to freeze.

Mateo’s lips pursed in amusement and from the corner of my eye he threw me a wink. But I found I couldn’t look away from his brother as he finally turned toward the males, the ice in his expression now dripping from his tone.

“This is the moment in which you apologize.”

The male blinked rapidly before clearing his throat. “I-I apologize, my lo?—”

“Not to me,” Callum snarled, lifting his walking stick to point in my direction. “To her.”

Mateo wiped a hand over his mouth while Henry grinned so wide both fangs flashed in the firelight. I could only try my best to hide my surprise behind the practiced smile I offered most of our patrons.

The male cleared his throat, the veins in his cheeks deepening in color. Both males bowed their heads and touched their fingertips to their lips. “My apologies, Mademoiselle.”

I nodded. “Thank you, my lords, that’s kind of you. Please know you are both welcome here any time.”

The second unchastised male relaxed at my words. “I have seen your male giver a few times and he is beautiful, Mademoiselle.”

With a nod, I gestured toward the curtain. “Monsieur Baldé is an exceptional giver, my lord, and skilled at cards.”

He took a step forward, eyeing Callum cautiously as he passed.

The male was a touch shorter than the Auguste brothers, but his shoulders were wide and he wore a neatly trimmed beard that was not as fashionable in this time as it had been a few centuries before.

“Is Monsieur Baldé available now, Mademoiselle?”

I flipped open my ledger to cover my surprise, though there was nothing to look at. Liam had no clients set to come today, though he had recovered from his cough and was reading in his parlor. “He is,” I answered, making an extraneous note in the margin and closing it.

The male ran a hand over his beard as if to smooth it, green eyes sparkling in excitement.

From his pocket he procured a clinking bag of coins and placed it on the counter.

But when I went to count out Liam’s fee, he raised a hand and shook it before throwing a quick look behind him at Callum.

“Oh, no, Mademoiselle, please no change.”

I frowned, counting out the two hundred oyista and handing him back the bag. “We’re a blood den, my lord, not a charity. But if there is anyone in need of a bit of spoiling, it’s Monsieur Baldé.”

With a wink, I tugged back the curtain, magic shimmering across my palm so Liam’s cozy parlor appeared. He looked up, a small grin pulling at the corner of his full mouth, and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair as he placed a marker in his book.

“My lord.” He rose fluidly and pressed three fingers to his full lips before moving them to his brow as they did in his native country of Flourisant. “ Serang lan nauth. ”

I let the curtain drop behind the male and, when I turned around, the other was gone. But Mateo and Henry were chuckling, the former reaching out to jostle Callum’s shoulder.

“You should have taken his coin,” Henry teased me.

I shook my head. “I don’t need pity, especially not from them. ”

“I don’t know,” Mateo mused with a smile. “His coin would make up for our enduring his friend’s presence.”

Their amusement was infectious. Again, I could not imagine how these two and Gabrielle could be so playful with a maker like Mael Auguste.

Callum alone was an anomaly among them. Unbidden, the playfulness of the letter from the mysterious patron slid through my mind and I wanted to sigh.

I could not imagine Callum writing such things, not with how serious he always was.

“I wish I had more to offer you gentlemen,” I murmured, playing with the edge of the ledger. “But I’m afraid Adrienne is an exclusive giver to another client and, as you have seen, Monsieur Baldé is indisposed.”

Henry turned to face me fully, gaze drifting from my face to my throat. “Are you not a giver yourself?”

But my answer was cut off by the low growl slipping through Callum’s teeth. The ever-present grin on Henry’s face widened. He rubbed his hands together and leaned onto the counter, breathing deeply.

“I would imagine you to be the sweetest wine, Lilith. It’s too bad you would keep such a vintage locked up tight.” My cheeks flushed when he reached out to brush a finger across the heated skin. “We could make it worth your while, I know it.”

It was teasing, I could hear it in his voice. He wasn’t serious about this offer, but I couldn’t understand for whose benefit he did it. Even still, I shook my head, biting my lip as I held back my smile.

Henry gave an exaggerated inhale. “Smell that, brother?”

Mateo nodded. “Gorgeous.”

“Enough,” Callum snapped.

His gray eyes shone silver, nostrils flared, but they were not fixed on his brothers. No, his piercing gaze pinned me to the spot and the silver handle of his walking stick lay in pieces at his feet. I gaped—I could not help it—even as he ran a shaking hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

“That’s the second walking stick this week,” Henry muttered beneath his breath.

“You make a mockery of us all, including Mademoiselle Searah, when you make such bold statements in the public eye.”

Henry gave a mock pout before grasping my hand and brushing his lips to the back of it. “My apologies, Lilith, if I offended you.”

“Mademoiselle Searah,” Callum corrected.

His brother straightened, brows ticking up in amusement as he turned to Callum while keeping a hold of my hand. “She has offered me the courtesy of her first name, brother. It’s not my fault she has not offered it to you.”

I winced, the heat prickling on the back of my neck.

But when I looked at Mateo, desperate not to see Callum’s reaction, he appeared much too understanding.

He shook his head sadly, taking my hand from Henry to give it the same treatment.

And though he turned toward Callum and I saw his lips move, I could not hear the words, fast and low as they were spoken.

But it appeared as though Callum had been slapped, any feeling in his expression frosting over until again I thought of the statue of Deimos. His brothers disappeared in the next heartbeat, leaving us staring at one another as we had the other night, like the eye of a storm.

“Thank you, Lord Auguste, for your kindness tonight.”

He visibly flinched at the title but nodded stiffly. “Good evening, Mademoiselle.”

And he vanished into the night.